Warhammer Fantasy: A Dynasty of Dynamic Alcoholism

Reader mode
Okay just wanted clarification. I first heard of Warhammer Fantasy when I started reading torroars Albion Quest
so don't know much about it other than what I read on the wiki's or learn about from what others post in these quest's.
 
torroar said:
Yeah, he sure did clear all the Empires Forests of Beastmen. you know. For one year. Kind of.
Click to expand...
Click to shrink...

And to be fair, we haven't had a full-blown Beastman war coming at us so far, so maybe that's thanks to him that they've been on the backfoot for a few years while they recover their numbers. I mean, I know there are skirmishes going on below our level of attention involving the Beastman, but no giant armies rising out of the forests...

And that's clearly because of Magnus. There, explained!
 
The Laurent said:
And to be fair, we haven't had a full-blown Beastman war coming at us so far, so maybe that's thanks to him that they've been on the backfoot for a few years while they recover their numbers. I mean, I know there are skirmishes going on below our level of attention involving the Beastman, but no giant armies rising out of the forests...

And that's clearly because of Magnus. There, explained!
Click to expand...
Click to shrink...

Plus as said the beastmen are self replinishing even without a breeding population. You'd have to either much reduce the forests or patrol them so throughly that no new beastmen could manage to find safe haven in them and the forests are absolutely massive, covering most of the Empire's territory, to stop the beastmen for good.
 
Last edited:
Here is a little something I thought was appropriate for our defensive battle


Men of Ostland stop your dreaming
Can't you see their axe heads gleaming
See their pagan pennants streaming
To this battle field

Men of Ostland stand ye steady
It cannot be ever said ye
For the battle were not ready
Stand and never yield

Form the hills rebounding
Let this war cry sounding
Summon all at Magnus's call
The mighty force surrounding

Men of Ostland onto glory
This shall ever be your story
Keep these fighting words before ye

Magnus (Ostland never) will not yield
 
Could we combine the defense and offense plans? You know, charge out with mobile forces, shoot them with gun and cannons, and have our melee troops prepare defenses like oats and palisades and stuff?

torroar said:
The soldiers of Stirland and Talabecland grimly align themselves for this, before finding themselves pushed aside as twenty five ogre bulks shove their way to the fore. Urdug roars, and in unison the Thunderbringers unshoulder their weapons, shove shot inside along with a painstakingly memorized amount of gunpowder, and light them. As they do so, a great wave of green bursts from the mass towards you, a river born of an ocean, waving scrap metal weapons and rocks all the while. Piggish red eyes shine with glee at the prospect of getting to grips with your forces, while your ears are forced to tremble under the weighty volume of the iconic greenskin yell.

"WAAAAAAAAAAGH!" they scream.

"RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHH!" Urgdug bellows louder in return.

(We Bring The Thunder! 90/100)

At this close, you can see some of the greenskins ears go 'pop' from the noise of twenty five cannons going off in their faces. You also get to see actual greenskin bodies go pop. The roar of the Bull Cannons is absolutely immense, and the gore created when twenty five round shots strike a mass of charging anything is beyond anything you dreamed of. At long distance you had watched bodies be crushed and broken by cannon fire, at close range the effect was magnified to an almost unholy amount.

The greenskin counter charge is not broken. It is one hundred percent eliminated. The orcs that are not killed instantly are left with mortal chunks torn from their bodies or are flung away so hard that bones shatter. The less said about the goblins the more you'll be able to eat later. The clash that the pikes, halberdiers, and swordsmen had been expecting disappeared in front of them. What few survivors remain are gunned down by the many handgunners you purposefully recruited before coming here. For a moment the greenskins draw back, as a speck of confusion and fear battled for dominance in their thick skulls. Unfortunately the latter rarely percolated a greenskins mind for longer than a few seconds, as they quickly reassert themselves in order to charge again.

That is about the same time as when the Thunderbringers, who had not been affected in the same manner after training for a year with their weapons, fired again without delay. The same change from mass of roaring orcs and goblins to mobile wet chunk filled charnel house is only slightly less instant than before. At this point however, the gunners get into it, unleashing quite a fusillade upon the enemy. Looking up, you see that Rommel has extricated his cavalry and pulled forward to the aegis of Nuln's cannons and magic users, which is great for him, but worse for you as all the greenskins nearby turn to you. By now they have thoroughly been disabused from approaching Nuln itself, so the only open target is…ah.
Click to expand...
Click to shrink...
Ah, so that's the secret to dealing with Orc's. You just have to be louder then them. Should have seen that coming.

Quick, everyone, we need to invent the speakers.
 
Nothing that can really be done about it, it's straight up Chaos Magic Radiation that mutates people and babies into Beastmen, who immediately join their fellows in the forest.
 
The only thing we can really do about the beastman problem is logging the corrupt forest. But it will take several years to clear that Chaos manifestation.
 
Battle of Three Armies 3
  • Threadmarks
    • The Battle of Three Armies, Part 3​

    You throw your support behind the defensive plan. Sure, you're confident in your abilities, but that is not a fight, that is a damnable bog of bodies and death. Magnus agrees, and sets about ordering a set of dry moats to be dug as quickly as possible. Your ogres assist, lending their prodigious strength to digging out the ground. Additional supplies are used to create planted stake lines in addition to each dry moat. Nuln, being one of the weapon production centers of the Empire, has plenty of extraneous weaponry. In this case this extends itself to a surplus of pikes and spears which join the stake lines, as well as the bottom of the dry moats.

    Jade Wizards present lend their ability at manipulating the earth create small rises, only just high enough to reach over the heads of the army, but enough to greatly extend the ability of the cannons to cause damage. The free cannons, those not on the walls of Nuln, are wheeled there so that they can be used with the utmost efficiency. There is a bit of a mishap when some of the Nuln engineers try to take the Thunderbringer's cannons as well, not quite understanding that no, they are meant to be held by the ogres, but it is quickly smoothed over when the Nulners realize they can do literally nothing to pull the cannons out of their wielders hands. Not that they don't try, or send you many a dirty look at 'perverting' the original design.

    The cavalry are allowed to rest and treat their wounds, gaining some healing by the hands of the Warrior Priests, while everyone else grimly gets ready for the incoming charge. With an enemy finally worth fighting, the greenskins surrounding Nuln have drifted over and around so that they can get at you properly. While this has the side benefit of finally allowing evacuations, as side and back entrances open up and civilians are escorted away towards the west, guarded by soldiers from the Army of Nuln, it also has the side detriment that the greenskins are going to concentrate on you quite heavily.

    But you are not alone. The majority of the Empire's runefangs are present. You have the Thunderbringers, and the rest of Urgdug's kin. The Reiksmarshal is here, as are the armies of several provinces. Power thrums from the direction of the Loremaster Teclis, the Archmage Aurelion, and that other elf. The Emperor stands with you, Ghal Maraz glinting in his grip. This is one of the times when you need to use both hands on Brain Wounder.

    However, just before you do, you wriggle your flask out of its holder and drain the thing. As you lower it from your lips, you can see Aurelion wrinkle her nose at you, though as you raise an eyebrow and offer it towards her she flips her hair and turns away. Hmm. Maybe she just didn't like it the last time she had some. You run your fingers over the flask, tracing its features. It's just a temporary one, you left your personal one back home as an heirloom just in case you died here.

    The flask drops, and you stomp it into the earth, shoving it back a bit until the mud obscures it completely. The burning of the ostka's passage slowly fades, and you spit one more time to the side before looking up. The gaze of tens of thousands of greenskins look back at you. With a grunt, you realize that they've finally cuffed each other enough times to stop milling about. They look…quite eager.

    "This is gonna hurt," Urgdug speaks up from next to you.

    "Ah, you'll be fine. You're tough," you saw, elbowing your friend with a clank of armor on armor.

    "Oh I know. But if you die, the boss lady'll freeze my fun bits," he says with a shiver. Quite a noise, a shivering ogre in full plated armor.

    "She threatened you?"

    "…only a little."

    "Yeah, we're going to have a talk when we get back to Wulfenburg."

    "WAAAAAAAAAAAGH!"
    ​
    Talk became impossible after that. The volume of your cannons and that of Nuln, the roaring of battlecries from over a hundred thousand throats, and plenty more besides, was loud beyond belief. You set your feet, readjusted your grip on Brain Wounder, and grit your teeth. Urgdug just made a beckoning gesture with one hand before lighting up his cannon.
    (The Gates of Nuln 71/100)

    ===================================================
    ​
    This….is the greatest fight you've ever had. Every pit fight, every scrap, everything else? Nothing compares, truly, nothing at all. Your scarred hide is safely ensconced in far better armor than any other boy had been able to make just yet, but they were doing their best. One of the last 'gifts' from the spikey stick lady who brought you back to the place where you'd been born, before she went and got herself killed. Before you could kill her, and by Gork and Mork did that sting.

    "Oy oy! Wuts dat den!" Wazog questions, pointing his metal pointer at one big nasty looking squig.

    It was way tougher looking than anything that the Blood Fella had brought up just yet. Taller than any boy on the field, and tougher looking to boot. Well…almost any boy. Not you though. The familiar sensation of adrenaline filled your hulking mass as you shifted and began to limber yourself up. Over two decades in a fighting pit had taught you the usefulness of it. With a grunt you stomp forward, readying both of your choppa's. Massive hunks of metal they were, carved right out of the hide of a stuntie metal floating box on the way back to the Regular Place. They even still had the shiny little lights on them that the stunties carved onto them.

    The red and metal looking squig roared and tore about twelve boys in the time it took you to take one step closer. The adrenaline pumped even harder, and your heart began to race…in the good way. You begin to lumber into a run, shouting all the way.

    "WAZOG!"

    "ROIGHT BOSS!"

    Power fills you, empowering you, strengthening you, making you better! Gork and Mork laugh up a zogging storm as you charge, bellowing a challenge to the giant squig. It's the biggest thing on the battlefield yet, and you only ever got one shot at the flappy git before he ran off. What a coward, just because you tore off one of his flappy things didn't mean the fight was over.

    "OY YOU! C'MERE AND FIGHT OL' GOREBASH! YOU CHAOS BOYS HAVUN'T PUT UP A GOOD FOIGHT IN DAYS!"

    The beast screeched and turned towards you, scattering creatures in its wake simply by virtue of its mass. A hellacious amount of crimson and brass colored light poured out of the thing as if it was a leaky floater, and above it forehead blazing in thin air was a great big emblem designating one of the 'Choozies' of the Chaos git that they called Corny. Or was it Corno? Then again, what do you care? They are nothing before Mork and Gork. Especially since your big light glowy thingy is all nice and proper green.

    (Exalted Slaughterbrute vs. Warboss Gorebash 45+15+Da WAAGH!s Blessin'15=70/100)

    "HAR HAR HAR!"

    ==========================================
    ​
    "Come on! Come on and die!" you snarl defiantly.

    The greenskins do their best to oblige, beating chests and running forward. They run into a storm of bullets and cannon balls, while Aurelion lances out with something akin to a twisty snake made of light which ribbons through the enemy ranks before erupting like a cord of controlled explosion. Or rather, it's exactly like that. Yet for all the fusillades, barrages, explosions, and magic that Aurelion, two Bright Wizards, the four Jade Wizards, and a Grey Wizard can bring to bear, they simply cannot slay them all before they reach you.

    Luckily you have all the pike and spears you could have ever asked for. The first three dry moats are completely filled with so many greenskin dead that they are moats now longer, just slightly squishier than normal portions of the battlefield. Pikes have snapped under the weight of the bodies strung along them like twigs, and the spearmen have had their weapons shattered by repeated clashes between the front lines. Your arm feels like you are swinging a leaden bar, but the utility of a runefang is one that you refuse to take off the battlefield if you can avoid it. Which, at this point is probably going to come from your arm just falling off. There are only so many times you can cut and stab, slash and pierce, deflect and elbow hard enough to break jawbones before plunging Brain Wounder into their chest and dragging it out through their heart and head.

    Urgdug does not seem to be tiring, but he is as it turns out running low on cannonballs. As are the rest of the Thunderbringers. The Nulners seem reluctant to provide more, but after a few angry moments of yelling, kicking, and picking one up by his coiffed hair, you get the round shot you need. Magnus is magnificent, rallying lines that come close to buckling, shouting encouragement, and personally charging in to relive entire sections of the front lines by himself if necessary. Teclis and his companion are chanting and doing…magical things, while Aurelion expends yet more of her strength on dealing death to the enemy.

    Even as you thought these things and gasped in some air to your laboring lungs, a band of forest goblins rallied towards you. Their wolf mounts have long since been driven mad by the constant exposure to blood and death, and they foam at the mouths as they leap at you.

    (Forest Goblins and Wolves 54+11=65/100)

    Some of the lighter armored men are torn apart immediately, goblins stabbing with their primitive weapons gleefully over and over again until their target is long dead. The feat fails on you, however, as a wolfs teeth scrape uselessly off of your armor, the goblin flung free by the continuing momentum. You catch the little bastard on your chest, and stomp so hard on the creature's chest when it falls to the earth that its innards squish out of its popped eye sockets. It squeaks once and then accepts its death. As for the wolf the butt of your blade and a square kick send it to the ground where it is quickly trampled to death by the crush of bodies.

    How many have you killed? How many have died here? The blood runs so thick at some points that it covers the mud, creating small pools of blood entirely, small rivers in dug trenches by repeated movements. A starburst of magic appears from behind you, and though you cannot turn your attention away from the hopping stabbing goblins, your ears still work somewhat well.

    "Ware! Something comes!" Aurelion tiredly calls out, crying out a message from her teacher.

    You stab another orc in the chest and then-

    ============================================​

    Gurgling, you chuckle wetly at the corpse. The numerous gouges you'd carved into its flesh has spewed blood that felt and burned like molten metal, but it was nothing you couldn't wipe off with bit of extra grunting. If only it hadn't almost completely torn open your chest towards the end…

    "Gorebash!" you hear a twiggy call.

    The blood pouring out of your body would bother anyone weaker, but you weren't them, and they weren't you. You drag yourself to your feet, ignoring the exposed bone along your left arm, and crack your neck back and forth. Stretching, you can hear the dislocated vertebrae pop back into place with a nice application of brute muscle and orky constitution. Shame about the choppa. You've still got the other one, but you liked 'Stabby Stabbs'. Now you'll have to make do with 'Stabbs Stabby'.

    "Whatchu want twiggy," you grouse. "Can't a git just enjoy da afterglow of a good foit?"

    Same thing, just like back in twiggy-land. Finish a fight, barely have enough time to spit on the corpse and laugh before they shove you back in a cage. Grr….those damn cages…..

    "What are you doing! The humans Emperor is right there!"

    And the complaining! Always the complaining! And the poking! And prodding…and talking down to you, like you weren't a Warboss and they weren't a twiggy! Like a slave….

    "Ya fink I don't know dat?! He's stuck behind his big boomy walls, else I woulda gutted him a long toime ago!" you shout back, waggling your choppa at her.

    After the head twiggy died, the sneaky stabby twiggy took over. Apparently a personal sneaky git of the twiggies head Warboss. At least the shaman twiggy had the decency to know that you could have snapped her spine with a twitch of your littlest fingers.

    "No…he isn't! If you weren't so stupid, you would have noticed he left the gates some time ago!"

    Right

    That's it.

    Years and years and years of this, since you were nothing but the smallest boy in the tribe. Enslaved, beaten, captured, not even able to fight like a proper orc….all because of the twiggies.

    "Call me stupid one more time twiggy, and I'm gunna-,"

    "Going to what- you dumb brute, if you don't get over there and kill that damned Magnus I'll-hlkk!"

    Your hand is bigger than her head and neck, and could wrap around her torso with little difficulty besides. Her arms whip towards her poison stabbers, quick as lightning, but you're faster. A simple tensing of your fist, and her head becomes jelly and her body goes slack. You'd had enough of twiggies years ago. But now? Now you were finally going to move onto your special plans.

    "Wazog!"

    "Yes boss!"

    "Init…initish….Start Sooper Sekrit Plan Number Kill All Twiggies Forever!"

    "YES BOSS!"

    And that is something both of you have been looking forward to with glee. All of those damn twiggies that have been strutting around like they owned the place, owned you, well not after today! And when you get a big enough WAAGH! You're going to bring it right up to the damn twiggies doorstep and kill that big boss dark twiggy!

    "BOYZ! WE GOTS AN ANNOUNCEMENT BY DA BOSS, SO LISTN' UP LESS YA WANT GOREBASH TA THUMP YA!" Wazog's WAAGH! amplified voice crackles out across the whole of your boys.

    A tendril of comforting WAAGH! energies envelops your head and throat. You'd made Wazog practice on a thousand boys to ensure this wouldn't blow your head up. He only managed it after the nine hundred and ninety ninth, but the point stands.

    "LISTEN UP BOYZ! KILL ALL DEM TWIGGIES!"

    "WAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!"​

    Oh, damn you wish you could see the face on all the twiggies as all the orcs, goblins, and even grots turned around and pounced on them. But you can't, because there's a familiar rumbling in your belly, letting you know that something big is gonna happen.

    "Wazog!"

    "Yes Boss!"

    "What's happening!"

    "Dunno!"

    Right, perfect information there from your most trusted advisor. As such, you decide to use the good old eyeballs that had serviced you since you popped out into the world.

    "Oh. OH! Yeah, yeah I seez it. Dat's one big flappy git!"

    The summoned Bloodthirster simply roared towards the sky, and began to liberally obliterate its way through your boys lines, heading straight towards the gates of Nummy. As it did so however…your eyes narrowed. Slightly smaller than it, and moving only along the ground right behind the Bloodthirster, was…

    "Aha! Bloody Flappy Git! C'mer…gah! Wazog!"

    "Yes Boss!"

    "C'mere and put me ticker further back in me chest. I don't wanna see it pumpin' with moi naked eyes no more!"

    "Yes Boss!"

    Energies of the WAAAGH! surrounded you…

    ================================================​

    The air immediately turned acrid from the scent of shit and piss as it is involuntarily ejected from tens of thousands of bodies. Honestly and truly, the aura of pure terror which abruptly blankets the army of men and cowers the greenskin horde is suffocating. For a moment you feel as if your heart will erupt directly from your chest. Shifting your gaze takes as much effort as moving stone, as you drag your eyes onto something that makes your soul wilt within you and sends your body to spasms within your armor. It is like staring into pure malice, death personified atop the battlefield.

    The daemon stomps loftily forwards, crushing any and all before it. In one hand is a disproportionally large double sided axe, while a whip that looks to be made of argghhr you can't make yourself look at it. Even a spare glance made it feel like your eyes were melting. The thing radiates power, and yet you cannot make yourself blink even to grant a spare second of relief from looking at the terror before you. Distantly you hear guns clatter to the ground, some men dying out of fear, while plenty more run screaming back towards either Nuln or the open fields. Some simply froze entirely.

    You take one step back.

    "STEEL YOURSELVES!" a voice cries out…and suddenly the fear fades.

    It doesn't disappear, mind you, that would be impossible looking at the bloodsoaked daemon before you. But on that shout from Magnus's throat…something in your spine stiffens, your wildly beating heart slows as nerves once more regain control.

    "Magnus…the Pious."
    ​
    A rumbling voice echoes out, a mixture between being unnaturally deep and ear-bleedingly high. Because your ears actually do start bleeding. Yet it was not the first daemon you saw who speaks, but another one. Bearing a massive axe all of its own, yet missing a whip, you stare at the sight of the still weeping wound on its back where a wing should be. Blood falls in a torrent from the open rip in its flesh and musculature, but it seems to barely notice.

    "I….am Thorgar! My Lord has sent me to slay you."​

    Magnus seems to shine with holy light in response to the menacing red and black. No really, a golden light seems to have suffused him...for a second. Then you blink, and its gone. Whether or not you hallucinated that, you do not know. You are too far away to hear it, but it looks as if he is whispering a prayer beneath his breath.

    "You shall fail then."
    ​
    The Daemon Prince, for that is what Thorgar must have become, grins widely. With both hands it grasps its axe, and stomps forward, crushing a group of knights without seeming to even notice. With a flick of its eyes, the Bloodthirster snorts and slowly breaks off as it circles predatorily around your now only slightly wavering armies. The daemons and warriors of Khorne that accompanied this breakthrough force avoid the small area between Magnus and Thorgar entirely. Apparently this is something that the Daemon Prince must do alone. You look towards Teclis, but he appears…conflicted? Power gathers in his hands…but…he keeps looking between the larger and healthier looking Bloodthirster and Thorgar.

    "Damn it!" Aurelion hisses beneath her breath near you. The magic surrounding her gutters slightly with her words. "Of course there'd be two. The ritual was only meant for one!" You don't know if she intended you to hear that, but you did regardless.

    At some unseen signal Thorgar rushes towards the comparatively smaller Magnus, giant axe and Ghal Maraz meeting in a boom of golden and crimson energies. The Bloodthirster lets loose a cry and charges forward, cutting and snapping apart bodies with its whip. It moves unnaturally fast, shifting from one place to the next, ending what seems like a dozen lives in the time it takes you to register that fact.

    Behind the mall, the greenskins are rallying, and roaring, and now they are attacking both of you at the same time. With Magnus fighting Thorgar, Teclis unable to determine which target will deal the most damage yet, and all the various Elector Counts embattled, it seems the time for organization has passed. Now it is up to you to decide what to do for yourself, and Urgdug who yet remains at your side.

    [] Bloodthirster and Legion: You must trust Magnus. Some unspoken rule of one-on-one combat has been enacted, and not a single Khornate approaches. Any that do are cut down by their fellows. If you break that rule…you aren't sure if they'll swarm or not. Besides, the Bloodthirster is the greater threat, ripping and tearing apart your lines! Reiksmarshal Drakenhoff is heading right towards the damn thing, but he is but one man with a runefang. It would be better if there are two. Besides, you can shift an army to assist, which is far more than you can concentrate into the small part of the battlefield that has cleared for the titanic duel. You would be a burden on Magnus in that, and even worse a detriment.

    [] Magnus And Thorgar: Magnus is the Emperor, his the Pious, he has the light of what you presume are the Gods themselves about him. Thorgar has been wounded at some point, and is bleeding copiously. While the Bloodthirster is tearing your armies to shreds, if you were to strike and defeat Thorgar, Magnus might be able to rally the people and turn what looks to be a route over there into a victory! On the other hand…it's a Daemon Prince, and you don't have a purpose built anti-daemon blade on you. Also, this Thorgar has had far longer to adapt to his form than Gruber had, and you barely survived Gruber. Magnus has Teclis, Aurelion, and that other elf if he needs assistance.

    [] Write-In
     
    Last edited:
  • Threadmarks
    • What is the percentage of the population that gets exposed to the Moon and turns into beastmen each year?

    What are also the most likely reasons they got exposed when they were supposed to be safe inside?

    If there are causes we can do something to fix we can lower loss of our people to both turning then threat they pose to the rest.

    There would be several things I see could be a problem in Ostland. If warpstone meteors falling on that day is a thing then better shelters so that damage them hitting populated is lowered cause everybody went into underground bunkers that can take a hit.

    Second is education. I don't know if people are properly informed on what best to do or not so that.could be a problem.

    Third problem is that Ostlander's are drunkards. Who knows how many people were drinking and without their common sense ended up exposed and turned into a beastman.
     
    Vlad said:
    Third problem is that Ostlander's are drunkards. Who knows how many people were drinking and without their common sense ended up exposed and turned into a beastman.
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...
    Ah, drunkards who hide inside barred doors and locked windows and drawn shades.

    Culture of Fear, remember? Your people do not like being outside at night. I'm going to lock myself in the deepest hole possible and drink until I don't move anymore so that I can black out this horrible horrible day and wake up tomorrow.
     
    [X] Bloodthirster and Legion: You must trust Magnus. Some unspoken rule of one-on-one combat has been enacted, and not a single Khornate approaches. Any that do are cut down by their fellows. If you break that rule…you aren't sure if they'll swarm or not. Besides, the Bloodthirster is the greater threat, ripping and tearing apart your lines! Reiksmarshal Drakenhoff is heading right towards the damn thing, but he is but one man with a runefang. It would be better if there are two. Besides, you can shift an army to assist, which is far more than you can concentrate into the small part of the battlefield that has cleared for the titanic duel. You would be a burden on Magnus in that, and even worse a detriment.
     
    [X] Bloodthirster and Legion: You may not trust the Gods, but you sure as hell trust Magnus. Go kill the hell out of the rest of the assholes bothering the Empire so he doesn't need to worry about you all.
     
    Reader mode
    You must login or register to reply here.
    Back
    Top